Ocean Pulse Chapter 3

 

Chapter 3: Turbulence

The Neptune Star had left Tramandaí, Brazil, several days ago, cutting across the vast Atlantic en route to an undetermined European port. The weather had been calm at first, with the sun shining brightly and the sea as smooth as glass. But the farther they sailed from the South American coast, the more ominous the sky became. By the time the sun had dipped below the horizon on the third day, the wind had picked up, and the ocean began to churn with rough sea swells.

Troy was still adjusting to the rhythm of life at sea. Each day brought new challenges, but the constant movement of the ship beneath his feet was proving to be the hardest. The storm had hit without much warning, and by late afternoon, the ship was rolling heavily with each passing wave. The once-clear skies were now swallowed by thick gray clouds, and the sound of the wind howling through the rigging sent chills down Troy's spine as he finished his tasks in the engine room.

As the ship swayed and lurched beneath him, Troy’s stomach flipped for what felt like the hundredth time that day. His head swam, and a wave of nausea washed over him. He gripped one of the railings for support, willing himself to keep going, but the sickness had taken root deep inside him, making every step a struggle.

“Not now… please…” he muttered under his breath, but his body wasn’t listening.

It wasn’t long before his senior officer, a seasoned third engineer, noticed his condition. The officer approached Troy with a concerned frown, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the mechanical hum and the distant roar of the sea.

“Troy, you look terrible,” the officer said, his eyes scanning the young cadet. “The rough seas are getting to you. You’re no use down here in this state.”

Troy tried to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. His vision blurred, and he could barely focus on the officer’s face.

“Go upstairs to the accommodation and rest,” the senior officer ordered, his tone firm but not unkind. “Get some sleep. You’ll feel better after a bit of rest.”

Troy hesitated, his pride urging him to push through, but his body had already made the decision for him. He nodded weakly and made his way toward the stairs, clutching the walls for support as the ship rocked violently beneath him. With what little strength he had left, Troy pushed himself away from his workstation and stumbled toward the exit. Each step was shaky, his legs barely able to hold him upright as the ship rocked harder with each passing wave. He managed to make it into the alleyway leading toward the accommodation, his breath shallow and his vision blurred. His only thought was to get some fresh air—something to clear his head and settle the storm inside him.

Jules had just finished his 1200-1600 shift and was heading back to his cabin when he spotted Troy in the upper deck alleyway. The young cadet was leaning heavily against the wall, his face pale and drenched in sweat. Jules recognized the look immediately—seasickness. He had seen it many times before with new crew members, but seeing Troy like this stirred something inside him. He had been quietly observing Troy for days, curious about the cadet’s quiet determination and how hard he worked to prove himself despite being new to life at sea.

“Troy,” Jules called out as he approached, his voice cutting through the distant roar of the storm outside. “You alright?”

Troy looked up, his eyes glassy with discomfort. He attempted to straighten up, but his legs wobbled, and he failed miserably. “I—I’m fine,” he muttered, though it was clear he wasn’t.

Jules was at his side in an instant, placing a steady hand on Troy’s shoulder, his grip firm but gentle. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here. You don’t look fine.” 

Troy didn’t protest. His body was too exhausted, too drained from the relentless nausea to argue. He allowed Jules to guide him, their footsteps echoing down the narrow alleyway as the ship rocked beneath them. Each step was an effort for Troy, but Jules’s presence gave him a sense of stability.

They reached B-Deck, where the crew’s cabins were located, just as another powerful gust of wind rattled the ship. Inside, it was quieter, but the storm’s presence could still be felt in the groaning of the ship’s structure and the occasional spray of rain against the portholes.

Jules stood beside Troy, close enough that their shoulders brushed as they paused for a moment. He glanced at Troy, his brow furrowed with concern. “It happens to everyone their first time out. The sea’s rough tonight.”

Troy nodded weakly, still feeling his stomach twist, but grateful to be away from the oppressive heat of the engine room. He could sense Jules’s warmth beside him, the quiet strength in his presence a surprising comfort in the midst of the chaos. For a moment, they stood in silence, the only sounds the howling wind and the distant crash of waves.

“I didn’t think it’d hit me this hard,” Troy admitted softly, his voice barely audible over the storm. “I thought I could handle it.”

Jules chuckled softly, though there was no mockery in his tone. “Everyone thinks that. Doesn’t matter how tough you are—this life has a way of humbling you.”

Troy glanced up at him, his eyes meeting Jules’s in the dim corridor light. There was something in Jules’s gaze—steady, reassuring, but deeper than just concern. Neither of them spoke, but the air between them felt charged with an unspoken connection. Amid the storm’s chaos, something sparked, though neither was ready to acknowledge it.

“Come on,” Jules said after a moment, breaking the tension. “Let’s get you inside before you catch something worse.”

Troy nodded, though a part of him hesitated, not wanting to lose the strange, silent bond that had formed between them. But he was too tired to resist, and he let Jules guide him to their cabins, away from the storm raging outside.

Back in his cabin, Troy collapsed onto his bunk, his body still trembling with exhaustion. Jules had followed him inside to make sure he was settled, standing near the door as Troy kicked off his boots and pulled a blanket over himself. The cabin was small, but the silence between them was thick with tension. Jules lingered by the doorway, his hands in his pockets, watching Troy with a quiet intensity.

“You’ll be alright,” Jules said, though there was something more in his voice. “Just need to rest.”

Troy nodded, his eyes heavy. “Thanks… for helping me.”

Jules shrugged, though there was a softness in his expression. “Part of the job. We look out for each other.”

Troy’s eyelids fluttered as sleep began to take hold, but before he drifted off, he felt it again—that undeniable pull between them, like the currents of the sea dragging him closer to something he couldn’t yet name. Jules’s presence filled the small space, grounding him even as he felt himself being carried away by exhaustion.

As Troy fell into a deep sleep, Jules lingered for a moment longer, watching the young cadet’s chest rise and fall in slow, steady breaths. He couldn’t quite explain it, but something about Troy had gotten under his skin, like a song he couldn’t shake from his mind.

Without another word, Jules slipped out of the cabin, the storm still raging outside, but something far more turbulent was beginning to stir within.